You Won't Get any Trouble, or Will You?
by Detouredbe
Summary: The animals of the Truffula Valley are almost unbelievably forgiving. But just suppose...


**In my opinion, the 2012 adaptation of "The Lorax" is, where the ideas of a fan are concerned, fraught with potential for what-if concepts. What if this was different, or if this had been done instead, or if the real intent behind that was this, and so on. One scene which inspired me in this way was the scene just before the Lorax drives the animals out of the valley. They're all sad and devastated, but do not intend to give the one who brought this on them any trouble for it. Pretty forgiving, huh? But if they weren't...**

**The copyrights are those of Dr. Seuss, and I'm sure Universal Studios and Illumination Entertainment have their share of claim.**

He looks at the sea of unhappy faces closing the distance between themselves and him. Faces embodying starvation, malady, just sheer desolation. All brought on by his own blindness, greed, just plain inconsiderateness. The guilt beginning to bubble up in his heart might well have boiled over by now, were it not for the sudden glint in the animals' eyes that catches his notice. Faces which looked so sad, sick and helpless before have suddenly taken on a new life and energy – a very _dark_ energy. A cold panic starts itself, in the pit of his stomach.

Backing away, he starts to protest, his voice trembling, that he does not want trouble. He knows now the wrong he's done them and regrets it, not to mention for reasons more honest and selfless than the fear his victims are evoking in him right now. He fleetingly remembers the one other time he's seen that look in the faces of these generally gentle, adoring and amiable creatures. When he arrived in the beautiful valley he's now destroyed, and began unloading his cart, then turned to find the animals that had welcomed him moments earlier were now viciously preparing for attack on him! When he thought about it on an occasion or so in the proceeding time, it might have had something to do with his carelessly flinging his belongings, some of which were sharp or otherwise dangerous, willy-nilly amongst the trusting crowd.

Back then the only thing which saved him from being chewed up or whatever they planned to do was a bag of marshmallows which became a fortunate casualty at the start of the conflict. He has one or two somewhere in the pocketing of his coat, but that won't be enough to appease this angry mob. But, surely they realize how useless this is? What good will it do, right? It certainly won't bring the trees, or the pristine air back. There's simply no _reason_, and they'll acknowledge that! Won't they?

His attention, so focused, like a deer in the headlights of a car full of gun-toting passengers, is suddenly drawn away from the threatening animals, when he hears the Lorax speak. He seems to assure him that his fear of "trouble" is not required; "And you won't get any..."

He unwisely allows himself to relax. Only then does he learn that the guardian was not finished yet.

"...Not from _me_." He says this with a menacing grin, replacing the sombre, resigned expression which adorned his face up until moments ago. The Lorax motions back to the myriad of enraged Bar-ba-loots, Swomee Swans, and Humming Fish, who now hold their paws, wings and fins out in a poised position, their mouths curling unanimously into snarls. "Wish I could say _they _felt the same way!"

That boiling guilt and anger the young man felt at himself before is now completely frozen over, replaced with the frigid chill of fear and panic. Shaking like the ground above disagreeing tectonic plates, he backs away, beginning to beg them not to hurt him, in a stammering voice. Near the Lorax, he sees his old donkey, Melvin, come to stand by the stones the ancient creature is perched atop. Sitting on the donkey is Pipsqueak, the little Bar-ba-loot cub who was his personal favourite out of the animals. As selfish as he has allowed himself to become, the better part to his nature that he suppressed all this time still loves them so much. Surely... _surely_ they do not intend for him to be... with horror, he recognizes the emotion they bear as indifference. They will not harm him themselves, and they won't relish his punishment the way it looks like the Lorax will, but they're just going to let it happen without raising a hoof or paw. The same way he let this devastation befall all of them.

He is shaking so severely from his overwhelming fear that his footing is lost at one point, and he falls a bit awkwardly to the ground. Gasping, he looks back up at the wicked leers of his victimized foes, now crowding all around him and leaving no direction in which to get up and run. They've _got_ him now!

"Enjoy, pals!" The Lorax calls, the malicious tone in his voice mocking the terrified man.

Soon after, the sound of agonized screaming echoes throughout the stale atmosphere, carried by the sour wind to all edges of the demolished valley.

/

The Once-ler was not eaten alive, or dead for that matter, by those revenge-bent creatures that day. That would have been a horrible fate for him, and some angered by his actions might darkly decide it a befitting punishment, but what did happen to him may, depending on your view, possibly be even worse. Their collective decision was that he should suffer the same exposure to pollution that he'd made them suffer. In fact, while they're at it, they decided, why not take it one step further?

On another topic now, they say it is very unwise to approach this formerly crystal-clear river, now blackened with schloppity-schlopp and gluppity-glupp. Not just because it's so suffocating and toxic out here in this wasteland surrounding it, and only gets worse over here. They say an _undead_ dwells within this swamp of chemicals, the only presence to be found out here. Its deluded, polluted consciousness can only interpret any living organism approaching its lair as one of those betrayed animals from long ago. It will then emerge, with intent of pleading forgiveness, never comprehending that it only adds to its count of victims each and every time...

Oh, what was that? Did you not see the surface disturb?!

**The End.**

**AN: Wonder if they even considered that by doing this, they've essentially added insult to injury, when it comes to the forest itself. How could The Once-ler give Ted that last Truffula seed now? Anyone familiar with the Lion King franchise will probably guess with ease how this transpiration was inspired, but I have to admit, every time I see this scene I keep having to remind myself that it _doesn't_ play out like this.  
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